Dyeing for the Hunt
by Eydie Munroe
Summary: A little late-night chat in the mess hall. Written for VAMB's 2015 Secret Drabble Challenge.


**Dyeing for the Hunt  
by Eydie Munroe**

Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount and CBS. This story belongs to me. And never the two shall meet. Which is sad, really, because I've got some fantastic ideas for them.

Author's Note: This was written for VAMB's Secret Drabble 2015. The opening line provided by audabee? "It seems to have worked...". Thanks as always to the amazing Hester for the beta! Enjoy!

* * *

"It seems to have worked…"

Kathryn peered down at the boiling pot's contents. "Are you sure? It never works for me."

"That's because you barely put enough water in to cover them," Chakotay told her as he carried the pot to the sink. "The trick is to use more water and a bigger pot."

She frowned as she settled back down on the other side of the raised counter. He was right; her eggs always turned out cracked, or with wispy bits of escaping whites. "I still think we should have used the replicator."

He grinned as he ran cold water over the now-cooked eggs. "You know as well as I do that you can't dye replicated eggs. You have to use real ones."

"Oh right." Resting her chin on her hand, she asked, "Why are we doing this again?"

"Because Flotter told Naomi about the Easter Bunny, and she's been bugging Sam about Easter eggs ever since."

"But that's usually for chocolate eggs."

Chakotay looked up at her in surprise – going through the whole process of actually dyeing eggs had been Kathryn's idea. "What can I say? Sam is trying to limit her sugar intake, so here we are."

She absently ran her fingertips along a nearby bowl. "Poor kid. That's like getting socks and underwear for your birthday."

He chuckled. "Sounds like the voice of experience."

"My Aunt Martha always gave them to me. Said it would build character." She smiled as the memory of her father's sister came back to her. "Personally, I think she did it just to annoy my father."

Now that there was enough cold water in the pot, Chakotay turned the faucet off and dried his hands. Seeing the bright expression on her face, he knew they'd touched on something good. And she'd never really told him much about either of those people before. "Annoy him?"

The small smile grew into a full-out grin. "My parents always made sure that my sister and I ate as healthy as possible; it was one of the reasons we never had a replicator in the house. But Christmas, Easter and birthdays were times that my dad thought we should indulge. Martha, being the shit-disturber that she is, would do the exact opposite just because she knew it bugged him."

Chakotay's eyes widened a little. She'd sworn in front of him before, of course, but never this openly and especially not as a loving endearment for someone. It suited her. "Let me guess – younger sister, right?"

Kathryn laughed. "How'd you know?"

"Because it sounds like something my sister would have done," he said with a smile.

Kathryn got caught up in that smile, her thoughts dreamy for just a moment before returning to equilibrium. "The best part is that she would always sneak me her real gifts before Dad was around, so I was a more than willing accomplice. He'd mutter about it for days." Her expression turned wistful. "When he was around, anyway."

After a few moments, he asked her, "How long has he been gone?"

"Fifteen years now," she said softly. "It's amazing how that much time has flown by, and yet some days, it doesn't even feel like it."

"And other days, it could be a century."

She nodded, knowing full well that he had similar feelings about how long Kolopak had been gone. "Do you miss him?"

To anyone else, it would have been a rude question, but not to Chakotay. "Yes and no," he admitted, reaching a hand into the water to check the temperature of the eggs. "He's still a presence in my life, even though he walks with the spirits now. But sometimes when I need his advice, and he's not there..." His hand curled ever-so-lightly around one of the eggs. "That's when I miss him the most."

Deciding that they needed to change the subject, Kathryn looked down at the pot. "How are they?"

His grip loosened, and he now felt the temperature. "They're just about ready. What sort of eggs are these again?"

"Destonian," she said, reaching over to grab another towel, which she laid out on the counter between them. "I haven't had a chance to try them yet, but apparently they taste pretty close to Terran chicken eggs."

He plucked the five remaining eggs out of the pot and set them down on the towel, where she started to dry them and place them into the bowl she'd been playing with earlier. "Well I guess you'll get to find out after the hunt. Naomi loves eggs. Once we show her that they're for eating, they won't last long. What colours should we paint them?"

"Blue, pink, yellow and green are the traditional colours," she said, wiping off the last one, "but I was thinking of maybe trying some pysanka on one of them."

"What's that?"

"Ukrainian Easter eggs. You use wax to draw images on them, and then you dye it darker and darker until it's finally black. Then you melt the wax off, and you see what you've drawn." She placed the egg in the bowl. "They can be incredibly intricate."

"Sounds like a lot of work for something you're just going to eat," he commented as he started to clean up.

"Says he who can spend three hours cooking dinner."

Reaching out for her now-wet towel, he waited patiently until she put it in his hand, then quickly flicked it back at her. "I've never heard you complain."

Kathryn shot him a playful, scowling look. "Do that again, and it will be three days in the brig, mister."

Chakotay flashed her a wide, toothy smile as he looked around the empty mess hall. "Do you really want to risk having to eat here every day while I'm locked up?"

She then remembered their incinerated dinner from a few hours earlier. "Okay, point taken. But watch yourself."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Hanging the towel up to dry, he asked, "Ready?"

She nodded, picking up the bowl while she slid off the stool. As they walked over to the doors, she told him, "I think you'd better replicate the dyes. My replicator might poison all of us."

He chuckled as they made their way back to his quarters, remarking to himself at the strange turn that their weekly dinner had taken. Kathryn had been tired and cranky after her shift; the cleanup and repairs after the macrovirus incident were finished, leaving her to face the mountain of reports and paperwork which had been piling up. Irritation radiated off her when he stepped into her quarters earlier that night, and he instantly wanted to help. Fortunately, a casual mention of the egg hunt was enough to shift her focus, hence their late-night trip to the mess hall. "Not to mention that you might be able to get a coffee without spending your rations."

"Maybe."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her sly smile. Yes, she was definitely in a better mood. "You'll go broke when I decide to collect."

"It will have been worth it, my friend," she chuckled, linking her arm through his. "It will have been worth it."


End file.
